Doing His Job
by hippiechick2112
Summary: Sometimes, a mother has to stand up and reevaluate the situation in the country today. Sometimes, she has to realize how low things have gotten, despite the roles everyone is playing.


**Doing His Job**

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the characters, plot lines, etc. of _Hogan's Heroes_, as we all know. I just write the stories, correct the inaccuracies in the series and review World War II history, like the rest of you people who love the show just as much as I do.**

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I stared out the window, my elderly bones holding me together, anxiously waiting my turn for a death that I know is coming. I know that it is coming soon enough for me, but following my usual routine seems to keep my son, Wolfgang Hochstetter, from suspecting anything out of the ordinary. And that is all I ask for in these very dangerous times, when we all seem to be afraid of our own shadow and jump at every noise behind us.

After all, my now-adult child comes home every night from work unless there was something going on with the Allied Underground that particular night or he had some extra paperwork to do. He always seemed so exhausted from interrogating and torturing the new adversaries of Germany and from all that nightly paperwork, but the undeniable light in his eyes was in there, telling me how much he enjoyed it, for all the good that it would do us. He was never hungry for food each time, I've noticed, but hungering for a chance to make sure that this new Germany had reached its greatest potential and destroyed its enemies, domestic and abroad.

And yet, I know that Wolfgang is doing his job. Like it or not, he's doing his job.

However, it disturbs greatly me to know how much my own son – the same one who has remembered a war when we proud of – takes pleasure in the torment of other human beings, especially when it involves his precious job, being that _Ge__heime __Sta__ats__po__lizei_ agent of Department A2. To me, though, the horrendous history of the Gestapo – as well as the Nazis itself – will always haunt me, just as this new Germany does. A new wave of madness has descended upon us and it's up to the same people, the ones who my son now hunts down daily, to destroy it forever.

I knew that it was since before the war began, in 1936 (five years after we all joined the Nazi Party as full time members), that the Gestapo has been able to operate their activities without any judicial oversight, to target and kill anyone (rumors now that they are hundreds missing and dead). They've been able to investigate any and all suspicions and calls on a whim, requesting this and that from each person for cooperation so that they could hold power over what might be against Germany now. They could imprison people without reason, calling it "protective custody" even.

"Protective custody", indeed!

Some S.S. officer, Werner Best, whom I knew Wolfgang mentioned was once leader of the Gestapo's legal affairs, said that the Gestapo did as they pleased. "As long as the police carries out the will of the leadership, it is acting legally," Best had said, as if to sum up what this brutal police force is all about.

And yet, they think that they are doing their job, to the satisfaction of Hitler, our little father in Berlin. Like it or not, they're doing their jobs.

And again, where did this wave of nonsense come from? Where was the Germany that I knew as a little girl, when there was an emperor who ruled over us and did not order this madness to ensue upon the land? Where was the pride that Germany used to have, where even the little children, like Wolfgang, would wave flags and remember that all Germans were united?

It is not there anymore, especially the patriotism we used to have. It has gone within this ship that has plunged us into a mass drowning. We're all human beings pushed off into this sea, trying to stay afloat and pretending control, but are truly dying in a country where there is no lifeboat, no object that will keep us afloat.

We all report on each other when we do not agree with the Nazis. Children lose their parents, parents lose their children. People considered to be opponents of the state hide or are captured, killed whenever the guards want to. Students rally under organizations to protest and they die young. Prisoners of war escape outside the wire and come back into camp at will…

And yet, are we all doing our jobs as the citizens of Germany? Are we doing what we, as patriots of this country, are supposed to do?

No, I will not let my son know about that, _any_ of that. He might be investigating everything as I speak my thoughts in my head, but I shall not let him know the truth that he knows in his heart and complains about daily without proof, when he has the chance.

Wolfgang shall never know about those prisoners especially. These wonderful and brave prisoners out of Stalag 13, with a record of bizarre schemes, will never be held hostage and tortured by the same man that I gave birth to. With many years behind me and less to look forward to, I would have spent the rest of my days protecting these men, who should be going home to a life without war and destruction and in a country where there should be peace and harmony.

Suddenly, the door to my right opens and my son comes in, dressed in a trench coat and hat. His usual grey uniform with the medals and such were missing. However, the scowl on his face told me many things happened this past day, the most prominent being that his lead into someplace was a dud and/or that he could not find anything. He was most likely at Stalag 13 again, wanting to search those barracks and pounce when he's found something of interest.

"And how are you this evening, Mama?" Wolfgang asked me wearingly, aware of my stance at the window, in which I was afraid and looking for something.

"Oh, I'm only glad that you're home," I lied flawlessly as I changed my expressions, knowing that a mother's love can only go so far. I embraced my son, allowing him to shove me aside immediately and then watching him stomp loudly up the stairs to his room. I knew how frustrated he was.

I stared after him, knowing how proud he was of his post and at the same time, knowing how clues can lead to nothing but silliness. And yet…yet, as an agent of Hitler, part of Department A2 of the Gestapo, my adult son, Wolfgang Hochstetter, was only doing his job as a Gestapo agent. And it was a job that I could only detest.

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**The Gestapo was divided into five departments, which in turn was divided into sections. Department A was investigating political opponents, while its second section dealt with counter sabotage. While it seemed on the show that Hochstetter was part of many departments (C, being the one for looking into the administration, party affairs and officers), the best I could determine was his job was undermining the Underground and investigating its activities. If I am wrong in this assumption, please inform me. Thank you!**


End file.
